The Fragile Chain
by Awaysky Gray
Summary: Better summary in the file. This is a difficultly selected piece to write, as you will read in the forward. One-shot, unless I find there is more I want to write about Samus. It's pretty much her past, but more why she didn't kill the last Metroid.


**I have been known to be quite anal when it comes to Metroid for some reason. It was very difficult for me to write this, so you must bear with me on this preview to a likely one-shot writeup.**

**Metroid is one of my absolute most favorite things to walk the planet. Samus Aran is my hero. And her past is something I don't quite like to meddle with, it seems.**

**Yes, I'm very picky about how I see Samus. One thing that drives me insane the most is how her past is so secretive. Yes, I am guilty of the one thing I hate most, but there are so many other poor interpretations of it out there that I feel I had to do what I thought was right. People need to hear my interpretation of it. It only seems right, for some reason. When Samus was unmasked in Metroid Prime, I suddenly felt that all I'd been welling up inside me was washed away. I somewhat liked the mystery behind the Samus Aran that seemed only an android. The thing, however, is not that she looks different than what I thought; I rather liked the element of surprise behind the mask. Who is she, really? What is she? Why is she doing this? Just knowing that it was a girl behind that mask was enough for me. There goes the element of surprise.**

**Anyway, we'll all just have to live with it. You know how I feel about disappointment. So, on with the story. Please comment. I understand it may be a bit messy, but you know what? I'll replace it soon, anyways. Life goes on.**

**And another thing: I . .. just forgot, nevermind. I'll think of it in a moment.

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This is just my way of showing what I think Samus' past was like and _why_ exactly she didn't kill the one remaining Metroid. Nothing much. May be a one-shot, unless I think of something else to write.**

**_Everything in this except for my interpretation of the events in her past are (c) Nintendo._**

**Happy Reading!**

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_**The Fragile Chain**_

_By: Ame Lia Fiore_

One single, solitary survivor. The only one left after a wave of massive destruction. The only remainder of its species on this entire planet.

And for that, it should be destroyed. They _all _should be destroyed. They're barbaric, life-destroying creatures that should all be destroyed. Nobody needs them, nobody wants them here.

They should all die. They have no purpose, only to kill and steal the lives of everything in their paths. And I have the power now to end their selfish, careless rampage. Their fate is in my hands alone.

The metallic figure hung above the leathery brown egg, wriggling in a sort of rhythmic pattern as the precious, valued life it held inside attempted its birth. The wriggling became more rapid, as if the beast were about to escape at any moment into the cruel world that would only eventually kill it. Let's just get it over with. The lethal cannon that had become her right arm was lifted to assume the target it would destroy. Just kill it. They really _are_ miserable, mindless, murderous creatures. Just _kill_ it. _Kill _it.

She was not frightened at the sudden emergence of the vile beast she called a Metroid. It merely slid through a crack that had barely begun on the surface of the egg and floated eerily in the air above the location of its despised birth. The cannon followed it as it hovered, hungrily desiring the termination of its cruel existence.

Kill it. It is only for the better. It will just _die_ anyway, alone, without anything. Just put it out of its misery.

You just killed every _other_ Metroid. Just _kill_ it.

You killed the _Queen_ Metroid. This is its only issue left. The _only_ one.

_Kill it_.

_Now._

There was a soft hum and vibration on the air as the beam on the cannon began to absorb the energy to kill the miserable little thing with one shot.

There was, however, another sound . . .

It was . . . what was it, chirping? It was chirping.

The Metroid was _chirping_ at her. No sooner had it begun chirping frightfully that it hovered around her in a desperate attempt to seek shelter from the cruel world it was born into. Fluttering here and there, only upsetting the already perturbed metallic being further.

Miserable little beast, I'll kill you . . . The cannon again followed the Metroid through the air, ready for any moment to kill it.

But there was something that held her back. There was a mental barrier—almost physical—that wouldn't allow her to fire at this helpless creature. It's so helpless . . . it wouldn't be . . .

They didn't kill _you_. Those who raised you didn't kill you, but they could have.

But they wouldn't—the Chozo are peaceful, they wouldn't kill—

But would _you_? Would you kill something as helpless as this? Something as helpless as _you_ were once, when you were taken in by the Chozo?

An immediate wave of a rapidly metastasizing fear surged through her nerves until it reached her brain. There, it unearthed the memories she'd been running from for years, memories that had almost been forgotten, were it not for her almost instinctive drive to fight, feeding on the hate retrieved from those lost recollections.

Without this drive, you wouldn't even know who you are, would you? You'd be only known as the sole survivor of that colony, no more, and even then, that would only last a limited time until you would die. Without the Chozo and their pity and love for you, you wouldn't be _anything_ now. You'd be dead. Just like this baby Metroid will be soon.

She began trembling a bit, quivering with every instant her eyes grew wide. She was _afraid_, but afraid of what? What she truly was? What could have been? Still, the little streak of energy flitted about her as she grew more lost in the link she saw between this despicable creature and her own self. Dazed, she lowered her sight, searched back along the memories she'd long lain to rest in the depths of her soul where they'd remained until they were unearthed just now. She saw it all, the life she'd known before, saw the way she so unexpectedly been linked to the very beast she was trying to kill.

The Chozo see humans as selfish, savage creatures. They don't _hate_ us, but . . . they don't necessarily like us, either. Nonetheless, they took me in.

They cared for me, regardless of my species.

They could have killed me or left me to die with all the others who'd been massacred, but . . . they . . .

They didn't.

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Death was heavy in the air above the colony on this planet—the wise Chozo knew it. The Chozo, whose hearts cried for every fallen soul, for every weeping heart, for every endless war. They were intelligent, peaceful creatures with a sort of unconditional love for life itself. How _could_ they allow such a disaster to go untreated without proper respect to the fallen?

But why would anyone commit such genocide? Regardless of the condition, the two beings in the small scout ship unanimously agreed to investigate the aftermath of devastation and assess the death. And perhaps investigate for any remaining life, which wasn't all too likely. That possibility could only be sustained by hope now.

Was there hope, after all? Were they clinging to a hope that seemed to loom in the distance, further and further slipping away from their careful reach? They couldn't just pass by this once humble establishment without at least a flicker of curiosity, or hope of any survivors.

The leveled establishment had a devastating effect on the immediate sensations of the two bird-like creatures, filling their minds with a replay of what might have happened there. Death painted the blood-stained dirt with a sorrow that seemed to rise with the escaping heat of death radiating from the endless horizon of heaped bodies. Some were burned; others were mutilated beyond any sort of recognition. A few fortunate souls had been spared experiencing such physical destruction before their death, and even fewer bodies were actually still intact. It was a wretched sight; but, instinctively, the Chozo could not hate, only tried to understand the influence behind such a despicable act. Their pity and melancholy empathy replaced all that may have been hate, leaving them with only their memories of happiness and beauty to thrive on.

Unlike the humans who'd once dwelled here. Such creatures thrived on a good fight and had a natural drive to resort to violence in such occasions. Had they no knowledge of the simple compromise? Had they any sense to flee from that which was stronger than they were? Were they really the stupidest creatures of all species of beings?

Surely.

But whatever it was that drove them was obviously very powerful, for it kept them from resorting to a peaceful resolution—a better way. They truly were blind. They truly were stupid.

Nonetheless, hate could not be shown toward them. It was only the instinct of the Wise—the smart, the superior, the intelligent Chozo.

It was quite heartbreaking to rifle through the already decaying remains of these stupid mortal creatures. There was probably a better way to end it than this.

There was a certain occasion when both decided it was better, instead of provide the dead with the respect they hadn't received for their deaths, to allow the ground below them to swallow them up with time, allowing all their sins, tragedies, and sorrows to escape into the heat of the air above and mingle for the last moments of their remembrance in the presence of the most noble entity around them: the beauty and glory of Nature. Nature itself could erase a moment such as this, leaving behind only minute traces of a once war-ravaged battlefield. The shallow graves that would have swallowed the bodies would be looked upon with a longing remembrance of those who'd been accepted by Nature, those who were finally forgiven and allowed access to the Paradise that surrounds every living being—including the humans, who, once again, were too blind to see it.

Turning in a rather pitiful fashion, the Chozo retreated from this scene to take cover from the sorrow. Their ship was the only way back to happiness now—a happiness that seemed to radiate naturally from the atmosphere enveloping all that was of the Chozo and their captivating home planet where all of Nature was magnified and all around them that would grow was respected and worshipped. It was a beautiful thing. It was natural.

Whisperings from the Voice told them to look for just a moment more. Was there really something to be salvaged from among the graves of the fallen? Was there really hope among the wildfire of devastation? Regardless, they'd been commanded, and were vigilant to their command.

And there was—a pulse of life. Somewhere near, there was _life_! A light in the darkness, a single remaining beat in the rhythm of living, and it was near. They had to resuscitate it, had to keep that once lingering hope alive.

Furiously they scanned the terrain. Searching everywhere within a radius of approximately 100 yards, they could feel its presence coming ever-nearer as they trod the land, hoping it wouldn't be too late for a miracle.

And there it was. A _very_ young human—a female, and the only survivor of this devastating attack. How could it be? What would save this girl from her attacker, the force that had destroyed all else without so much as hearing a plea for mercy?

She merely lied on the ground, resting helplessly on her side with her head positioned on the body that may have once been a loved one. Her eyes were wide. There were no more tears she could cry at the moment. Every once in a while, she'd twitch or shiver, whimpering with a young, pitiful voice. She was afraid. She was alone. Immediately the two Chozo were moved with such compassion and empathy, they couldn't help but weep with her for the loss of all she'd known as love and living.

One of them moved in to examine her more closely. She didn't flinch at the shadow that grew over her, only remained lying there with eyes fixed on the oblivion she'd once called home. From her motionlessness, they could see her helplessness, the way she lie in complete vulnerability to death and exposure to the memories of the way her people had cried before they fell dead to the ground. Without proper caring and love, _she_ would most certainly die. And whether it would be by a broken heart or body first, the Chozo knew not.

So they must care for her; otherwise, another life would be lost by their doing.

And that could not happen _ever again_.

The other bird-like creature moved in to see her without trying to frighten her. But, then again, with all she'd just experienced, how could she be any more terrified than she had been? He saw, too, that she needed help, so he stooped down and picked up her skinny, limp, trembling body with his big arms. The horror remained in her countenance. He pressed her close to him so as to comfort her and let her know that all would be well from then on, that they would care for her and teach her once again of life and living, that they would protect her as long as would be needed to help her feel safe once more.

The Chozo with the little girl—she couldn't have been more than three years—looked behind to his companion, but already he knew the situation. He looked down at the woman the little girl seemed to hold a bond with and gave her the blessing of the Voice and Nature, in hopes that her spirit would pass away from the world in peace, knowing that the only living person she loved would be kept in safety for her sake. The three beings remained a moment more for respect. Then, departing the melancholy atmosphere, walked back to the small scout ship that would bring them to the beginning of a new and different life with this little girl as their own to love, care for, and protect. They would accept her as one of their own and raise her in the ways of the Chozo until she would grow and find the spirit within her that would shape her into who she would become. Then, she would be her own self, living in her own way through which she would be taught, through all that she would be able to remember.

Would this occasion remain a devastating scar on her life? Her development? They would do all in their ability to take away this pain from her. Allowing it to fester would only allow hatred to be introduced into the existence of the Chozo.

So she was raised in complete love and understanding. They called the bright little blond girl Meijekan—which, in the language of the Chozo, meant "vitality and strength"—because of her seemingly strong will to survive. Infusing her with the thick blood of the Chozo gave her the remaining strength she needed to recover from the physical ailments and trauma, and it allowed a physical part of them to remain with her, like a distant memory and love, for love can truly heal. And the love the Chozo displayed to her helped to liberate her mind of the infection that had been the pain from the memories that could have tormented her eternally.

Adjusting to her new environment wasn't all too simple, however. She shied away, whimpering whenever a foreign being would approach her, examine her wounds and speak to her. Not only was it difficult to understand their language, but it was a test in itself to understand what they were going to do with her. Had she grown up longer with her parents, would she become terrified of their presence? How would she adjust easily to being around the sorts of beasts that could only exist in her nightmares? Nevertheless, with continuing love and affection, she began a bond with them that wouldn't easily be broken.

It wasn't much longer after she'd been completely healed that she began to display the normal antics of a human child her age. In fact, after a while, she'd begun talking again, about things she'd learned in the home that had been left behind. They noticed, too, that she would not respond to "Meijekan." Instead, she'd ignore them completely, simply because that was just _not_ her name. Comically enough, she'd skip around, singing a silly name song the humans apparently taught their children, and from that song and the few words they recognized of her language, they gathered her true identity: Samus Aran. The name Meijekan was terminated then, and they resorted to calling her by the name she knew, and speaking to her in the newly acquired and broken language that she understood.

Growing up in their possession, she really didn't display any mental trauma from the massacre. No, instead she'd laugh happily at the way the Chozo would speak to her, at the way they couldn't communicate with her perfectly. She seemed a normal human. So, it was immediately assumed that their unconditional love for her—for a _human_—had reversed the psychological effects. All was gathered to be perfectly normal, and Nature was kind enough to grant the Chozo this life and lesson. They learned from her more every day, as she grew up with their teachings, also.

And she grew up loving them with all her heart as the memories of her previous life began to materialize into the past which she'd forget.

But it was never truly forgotten, no; for as long as it would remain natural for a human like her to harbor feelings of revenge, there would have to go along with it a reason.

So she never really forgot. Those disturbances were still hidden somewhere in the back of her mind, where they would grow to assume their position as the reason for who she would become in the forthcoming.

And no matter how the Chozo would try to change her, they were still foolish in their actions. Humans had an instinct for violence and revenge. That was a precious gift that could not be taken away.

But that all seemed to be diluted in their observances of her daily activities. She was a very compassionate soul to all around her. The way she treated others with great respect was not their only observance; she was rather gentle with the life-emitting things all around her, and was never to raise her voice. Often, the Chozo who'd brought her close to them would observe the soft-spoken tendencies she had to be a naturally caring person and a lover of all that was life. In a way, she was just like them. She loved the life that surrounded her. Loved the people around her. Loved everything and anything, appreciating it for the role it played in the cycle of Nature.

But, again, she harbored the history and very instincts that made her _human_. She was no exception.

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**A bit thick, I know. This is just what I think happened. It's NOT gospel. All information is either what I thought up and what I've read.**

**Also, this is called "The Fragile Chain" because ofhow thisMetroid is somewhatlinked toher past.**

**And I still don't remember what it was I was trying to remember;I'll think of it some other time.**


End file.
